24/7

24/7

by Susan Diplacido
     
 

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Marina Martino is a bright, young woman who has a talent for counting cards. Miguel Rodriguez is a charming Las Vegas casino dealer. Sparks fly when they meet during a serendipitous game of blackjack. But as they become entangled in a dizzying romance through Sin City, details about Miguel's dark past surface and Marina begins to doubt his intentions as the stakes

Overview

Marina Martino is a bright, young woman who has a talent for counting cards. Miguel Rodriguez is a charming Las Vegas casino dealer. Sparks fly when they meet during a serendipitous game of blackjack. But as they become entangled in a dizzying romance through Sin City, details about Miguel's dark past surface and Marina begins to doubt his intentions as the stakes rise and danger unfolds. In the city of illusion, the normally calculating Marina has to make a decision to trust her brains or her heart-to bet on her skill or push her luck.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781554102174
Publisher:
Zumaya Publications
Publication date:
02/01/2005
Pages:
392
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.87(d)
Age Range:
18 Years

Read an Excerpt

I go out and meet Miguel. He's already out there and he looks fresher. I can't tell where his mouth was bleeding, it must have been inside his lip. He straightened his shirt. I don't see any marks on his jaw where I know he took at least a couple of hits.

I get another guilty pang with that thought, but I shove it aside, reassuring myself again that he's just fine, after all.

But he's still tense, I'm sure of that.

"You sure this is okay with you?" I ask him.

"Anything you want, baby, anything you want."

So he puts his hand on the back of my neck as we walk along, we go in and grab a booth in the back of the bar area where it's darkest and where there's least likelihood of roaming Romulans coming up to us. When the waiter comes, I order a Warp Core Breech and Miguel tries to get one, too, but I tell him we'll share. He looks at me strangely. When it comes out, bigger than a goldfish bowl, purple and smoking all over the place, he smirks at me and says, "Now that is a fuckin' drink. Trekkie fucks know how to party, huh?"

As we lean in and start sucking away at our straws, I get some weird mental flash of us as if someone else was watching us. Like we're some sort of distorted, grown-up, Gen-X, sullied version of the Lady and The Tramp spaghetti scene.

Except that I'm no Lady. Or lady. And I just nearly got Tramp skinned alive.\

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